GREAT RUSSELL STREET, December 21st. 
     MY DEAREST H——­,

My aunt Dall brought me home word that you wished me to send a letter which should meet you on your arrival at Ardgillan; and I would have done so, but that I had previously promised myself that I would do nothing this day till I had copied out the fourth act of “The Star of Seville,” and you know unless I am steady at my work this week, I shall break my word a second time, which is impossible, as it ought to have been at first.

[A tragedy in five acts, called “The Star of Seville,” at which I was working, is here referred to.  My father had directed my attention to the subject by putting in my hands a sketch of the life and works of Lope de Vega, by Lord Holland.  The story of La Estrella de Seviglia appeared to my father eminently dramatic, and he excited me to choose it for the subject of a drama.  I did so, and Messrs. Saunders and Ottley were good enough to publish it; it had no merit whatever, either dramatic or poetical (although I think the subject gave ample scope for both), and I do not remember a line of it.]

However, it is nine o’clock; I have not ceased writing except to dine, and my act is copied; and now I can give you an hour before bedtime.  How are you? and how is dear A——?  Give her several good kisses for me; she is by this time admirable friends with all your circle, I doubt not, and slightly, superficially acquainted with the sea.  Tell her she is a careless little puss, though, for she forgot the plate with my effigy on it for Hercules [Miss S——­’s nephew] which she was to have given my aunt to pack up.  I am quite sorry about it; tell him, however, he shall not lose by it, for I will send him both a plate with the Belvidera and a mug with my own natural head on it, the next time you return home.

I stood in the dining-room listening to your carriage wheels until I believe they were only rolling in my imagination; you cannot fancy how doleful our breakfast was.  Henry was perfectly enraged at finding that A——­ was gone in earnest, and my father began to wonder how it had ever come to pass that he had consented to let her go.  After breakfast, Dall and I walked to Mr. Cartwright’s (the dentist), who fortunately did not torture me much; for if he had, my spirits were so exceedingly low that I am sure I should have disgraced myself and cried like a coward.  As soon as we came home I set to work, and have never stopped copying till I began this letter, when, having done my day’s work, I thought I might tell you how much I miss you and dear A——.

     My father is gone to the theater upon business to-night; my mother
     is very unwell, and Dall and Henry, as well as myself, are stupid
     and dreary.